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Ode to my Steak

Look at this cow.
White with black spots.
Black with white spots.
Your smell fills my mind.
Putrid.
Grotesque.
Sweltering in heat.
Flies buzz around you.
You’re the king of the buzzards.
Eating in a field.
How does it taste?
Eat mother nature.
Your fattening body.
Juicy.
Grainy.
Voluptuous.
Ever get a massage?
Cows in Japan do.
You mull about life.
I see that in your eyes.

I see you next to smoke now.
The metal is clangorous.
Your friends are there also.
More flies are buzzing around you.
You certainly are popular.
The tail wags in excitement.
You’re going on an adventure.
Your life will be in balance.

Goodbye son.
Goodbye daughter.
Goodbye my wife.
I will see you soon.
Darkness has shrouded my being.
Wait…
This isn’t Disneyland.
This can’t be…

Well, you’re sitting on my plate.
Should I go for the A1?
I know.
Chef Emeril’s Cajun sauce.
Boy you’re tangy.
Little red.
Medium-well is always for me.
That baked potato is fond of you.
Creamy with relish.
The real deal.
Don’t worry.
My Sprite will douse the spice.
I feel a touch bovine.
Is it moral to eat another being?
Hold on…
That burp was good.
Smells meaty.
Know what;
next time,
I’ll try chicken.



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